


Like a Story, Never Ceasing

by raineyraven



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, How Do I Tag, Hurt No Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Not Beta Read, Pandora's Vault, Prison Arc woohoo!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:48:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28914885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raineyraven/pseuds/raineyraven
Summary: The lament of a once victor, cried to empty pages and uncaring walls.And a promise, for the end is far from near.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	Like a Story, Never Ceasing

**Author's Note:**

> This is after Tommy’s visit to the prison in his stream today. Basically Dream writes in one of the many books he has in the prison and comes to some resolutions. AKA me messing around with writing styles and speculating what c!Dream's writing style would look like cuz I'm bored. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I am not a Dream sympathizer, nor a Dream apologist. There has never been anything more satisfying in my eyes than that mutated teletubby looking mf get killed by Tommy twice over. And now he’s finally imprisoned oh my god. /rp
> 
> But by god I love writing from the villain’s perspective it is so interesting.

The hero’s sword lay grasped in his ready grip, the glow of indigo mist glimmering on the surface of the diamond blade. His hasty steps were quick and sure as the dragon’s roar, his heart true as an arrow’s flight.

Twin shouts sounded from behind him, the footfalls of his pursuers that pounded against the beige stone matching the hammering of his heart against his chest.

The hunters were unwavering, but the hero refused to slow. Through the many days and nights of his quest, they had chased him, persistent through every biome, every realm. They had chased him, bickering and joking as if this manhunt was a mere rabbit chase. He felt like a rabbit, with wolves dogging his every step. It made his blood boil.

No more.

All of a sudden, he was at the Void’s edge, an unimaginable abyss of pure darkness stretching out before him, as endless as the cloudless firmament.

He whipped around and was promptly met with the sight of the two hunters, eyes alight with triumph, sinister grins splitting their faces.

The hero backed up as they advanced, soon toeing the cliff’s edge. A final effort, he yanked a bucket of water from his belt, and then water was flooding the area around them. The hunters’ stances stayed steady, but the hero’s footing failed him, and as the waters he had summoned turned on him, he was swept off the edge, the water falling off the edge the only thing between the hero and a cold and lonely demise.

The hero tried clawing his way up the waterfall, desperation spurring his tired limbs. His efforts proved fruitless as the water began to recede, his merciless foes blocking off his chance at survival without a moment of hesitation.

And they laughed as he fell, their victories crowed to the empty darkness, while the hero watched them, waiting.

Then, from one of the pouches on their belts, a single, teal orb tipped out, falling into the void right after the hero.

The pearl fell into the hero’s grasp, his final chance, the potential of triumph and victory locked away in the dark sphere.

The hero hurled the pearl with all his might.

He hit the ground hard. He was on the move once more when cries of surprise sounded from behind him, the hunters’ confused shouts calling for their prey, the prey that had just disappeared.

They could do nothing as the hero bolted for the centre of the island, and the hero cared not for their calls and shouts. He had eyes only for the spire of bedrock, immovable and indestructible as the hope in his heart.

The knowledge of their failure sat like a cold stone in their chests as the giant beast with wings of pure shadow soared toward the island center, right toward the hero and his waiting blade.

The dragon roared in defiance, for how dare this meager human trespass on her land and wound her so. In the end, the beast’s deathly breath and fangs of obsidian were no match for the hero’s sword and bravery, and a final bellow thundered from her open jaws as she fell.

The hero held strong to the hilt of his sword, the azure hue of its blade lost to the violet blood of the mighty dragon. His victorious shout mingled with the beast’s dying cry and the raging shouts of the endermen around them, a melody born of death and triumph and bloodied hands.

The hero won, as he always knew he would. The hero always wins.

The end.

\-----

Dream placed the quill down beside him, staring at the pages he had just filled with graceful strokes of ink. The words laid out on the paper before him mocked him, a halcyon story written out of his pure boredom.

He snapped the book shut; he had nothing more to add to the story. He leaned back, his head hitting the obsidian wall behind him, and a soft sigh fell from his lips.

He sat on his pathetic excuse for a bed, a thin mattress with a wool blanket thrown across it. Across from him, a desk was pushed up against the wall. Several piles of empty books were stacked on its surface, accompanied by several pots of ink and spare quills. Enough to last him several months.

He turned to face the one direction where his sight wasn’t dominated by blank, black walls. A wall of lava gurgled and shifted, a never-ending stream of liquid fire.

He shut his eyes. Nothing in his sight, he was alone with his imagination. If he tried enough, he could almost feel himself soaring across a dark sky while the rain hammered against him, as free and powerful as the dragons he had heard tales about when he was a child.

There were no windows to taunt him with the prospect of freedom, yet the yearning in his heart felt worse than the heaviest of chains.

Oh, how he had fallen.

How far he was from the days he and his companions had joked and laughed, built and worked together. The days before he had allowed others into his land. The days before he had realized what needed to be done, for the good of everyone he had once welcomed.

He narrowed his eyes and opened the book in his lap once more, flipping to the page he had ended on.

_The hero won, as he always knew he would. The hero always wins._

The hero never gave up.

Dream wouldn’t give up.

He still had things to do.

He stood, walking to the center of the cell, the wall of lava casting a hellish glow over him. He faced the exit, glaring silently. He said nothing, though his heart roared with a thousand decrees and threats and promises.

There were still loose ends to tie, chapters to finish, books to close.

As Dream stood alone in an inescapable prison, not an ally to his name, he reminded himself of this.

Far away, in a land of blaring white and chilling winds, a warrior crowned by death itself dragged his sword across a whetstone, sharpening the blade until its edge could split hairs.

Somewhere, a mercenary sat on the peak of a soft, grassy hill, looking out over a peaceful land while fingering a medallion of pure gold.

In a land the living could never imagine, a man felled by his own pride and fear waited, his patience tested by the slow and steady dread filling his ghostly soul.

While peace had blessed the world, allowing a period of healing and rebuilding to commence, the people allowed themselves to believe the end had come, that the story was at a close, their trials finally over.

A select few knew better.

“It’s not over,” Dream stated. The walls stared silently back at him, indifferent.

This story's ending was still a long ways away.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have the time, please consider leaving a comment! I read them all and they make me very happy :D


End file.
